


Luck of the Draw

by Jade_Dragoness



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Community: cliche_bingo, M/M, Superpowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-21
Updated: 2009-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-27 14:09:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jade_Dragoness/pseuds/Jade_Dragoness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim exchanges his life for those of Spock and his away team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luck of the Draw

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt square: Superpowers.

Jim’s always been luckier than other people, but it wasn’t until he was grown up that he realized that his luck wasn’t random.

It wasn’t too obvious at first but it seemed no matter what happened to him, he always, _always_ came out of it on top. Even if it didn’t seem like it at first.

The first example he had was surviving jumping off a moving antique car that crashed to the bottom of a quarry when, according to all analysis run on the police officer’s video recording, Jim had been moving at the same velocity and should have tumbled clear off the edge of the cliff.

He hadn’t.

And so his strange run of good luck kept cropping up. For the longest time, Jim thought he was just oddly lucky. Lucky for a man who’d grown up with a dead biological father, an absentee mother and a step-father who didn’t particularly care of he was fed or clothed.

But he _was_ lucky.

He was born with good looks and brains. His father’s Starfleet benefits had piled up into enough credits to send him to any school he wanted, on or off Earth.

Once, Jim had poured it all in an incredibly risky investment which had nearly a zero possibility of return because he’d been unable to stand the idea of spending a dead man’s money. It was returned to him tenfold, and left him with enough credits to burn until he turned fifty if he was reckless, more if he was not. Instead, he’d used enough of the money to buy a used motorcycle and got the hell away from a farmhouse that still echoed with grief for a long dead man.

That had been the deciding factor that made him keep track of every event.

He started to try his luck on women, on men. Learning with bemusement, and a bit of worry, that even the corniest lines he could think up would usually work if he smiled prettily enough.

Jim tested it by antagonizing people into fights. Ones he usually won, no matter how many people he was facing up against, but only if he was sober enough. If he was too drunk, he usually got his ass handed to him. But even then, at most he only got a busted nose or lip, or ended up being fussed over a by a gorgeous nurse when he stumbled into a clinic for treatment.

Lucky.

He began to drink more to test how far he could push his luck but it held steady.

It was the only thing that did for a few years.

Even Pike being at the same bar, to recruit him, knowing just the right thing to say where other recruiters had been sneered away was a stroke a fortune because Pike’s good name helped smooth over any protests that would have been brought up about Jim’s multiple offenses against the law.

Then he’d gone and met the best friend he'd ever known on the same shuttle that would take him to his new path in life.

He was a lucky bastard.

But the straw that really broke the back of Jim’s self-doubt about his weird power of good luck, was being given the captaincy of the Enterprise.

He hadn’t even been in Starfleet for five years, let alone the usual Academy four years simply needed to graduate. It should have been unthinkable, impossible. The odds ran at more than a million to one. A trillion to one. Even factoring in Pike’s crazy decision to make him the first officer, he’d only been acting captain when he‘d taken command from Spock. He should have been given the rank of lieutenant commander, or even commander, if the admirals were feeling generous.

Instead, _he_ was captain.

Jim looked it up later. The youngest captain in Starfleet record had been thirty-five. And that man had been in the ‘fleet for over ten years. Jim was captain at twenty-five years of age.

He blamed his luck.

Only, being forcibly aware of the strength of his ability made him worry that one day it would simply stop working in his favor. Just stop for no reason the way that it had begun in the first place.

Yet now he had to rely upon his power of getting the universe to twist to his favor in the hope that it was a solid as it had proven itself to be.

“I‘ll do it,” said Jim. “My life for theirs.”

“Captain!” protested Spock, from where he was chained down next to the other two members of the away mission. They looked stricken at the idea, even with guards pointing energy weapons right at their backs.

Spock continued, “According to regulation-”

“Mr. Spock,” Jim interrupted him. “I have made my decision. You are to return to the Enterprise.”

Spock stared at him, but didn’t respond. The muscles in his jaws jumped and his slanted eyebrows furrowed.

“Give us your word, Captain Kirk,” hissed the leader. King something or another. Jim couldn’t even get the sibilants right, and bit his tongue the first time he tried. He simply called him King Snake, in his own mind.

Jim gave him a humorless smile. “I‘m here aren‘t I? Oh, very well. You have my word as a Starfleet officer that I won‘t try to escape. Now, free my people.”

The king waved his scepter at the guards, a slender and solid-black tool with a chuck of dilithium at its top. His blue-green scales shimmered rather beautifully as he moved though his unpleasant blood-thirsty expression kind of ruined the effect.

It was the dilithium that had started this whole problem.

Klingons had stolen a lot of it from these people and managed to successfully blame the Federation, especially Starfleet for the theft. And the Enterprise had stumbled right into it without a single clue warning them about the danger until Spock and his away team had been taken prisoner.

Spock took several steps towards Jim. His expression rather stormy.

 _Well, as stormy as Spock ever got,_ Jim thought with a flicker of dark amusement.

“Captain, it is illogical for you to exchange yourself for only a few prisoners. You are the captain and should remain onboard the ship. We are Starfleet officers and understand the risks involved in these sort of away missions,” insisted Spock.

“That may be true, Mr. Spock, but by your logic I understand the risk too,” said Jim, with a wry smile.

The look Spock gave him, like he wanted to shake some sense into his captain, sobered Jim’s black humor.

“I‘m sorry, Spock, but only I can do this,” Jim said firmly. He was betting on his luck to get him out of this. And if it happened to let him down. Well, he’d rather it failed in saving his people. In saving Spock.

The muscles in Spock’s jaw jumped again. He straightened up even further, as if he could use his coldest Vulcan expression to brow-beat Jim into submission.

He was so close that it was pure whim that made Jim lean over to brush a kiss over Spock’s lips.

Lightly. The sort of tender kiss you’d give someone you cared for too deeply for a simple hug to be enough.

Spock’s stare had changed and Jim got the impression that he’d shaken Spock with his actions.

“Sorry, Spock. Just consider it a last request,” said Jim softly, before he flipped over the communicator. “Scotty, beam up the away team. Leave me behind.”

“Captain?” asked Scotty, in alarm. “Ye cannot be serious!”

“That‘s an order, Mr. Scott,” said Jim.

Spock reached out to him but Jim stepped back and watched his men and the man who’d captured so much of his affections over the last year simply vanish in a swirl of brilliant white light.

The guards that had been holding the away team hostage now surrounded him.

He gave them a wide toothy smile. “I don‘t suppose you gentlemen have heard of giving the condemned man a last meal? Do you have pizza?”

“Take him to the execution chamber,” ordered King Snake, with another wave of his dilithium scepter.

Jim let them drag him away.  
*-*-*-*

The room that the guards left him in had dark walls, floor and ceiling. It also smelled disturbingly of soot. Jim crouched down and rubbed his forefinger on the floor. It came away black and greasy.

He looked up and a saw a series of openings on the ceiling. And he knew that this execution chamber was going to involve him being burned to death. While he was still alive.

He ran to the door and tested it. It didn’t budge. He snarled angrily and kicked it.

He felt a vibration through his boots and the temperature began to rise. The openings on the ceiling began glowing, changing the light in the room to a deep red. Just when he was beginning to think that he would not be able to hold back a scream of fear the vibration stopped and the red light faded.

Jim panted for air in the hot room, just struggling to calm down his own heart, when the door that had been locked was flung open and the same guards that had left him to die grabbed him again.

This time he fought.  
*-*-*-*

Jim was held up only by the grip of two guards, each holding an arm. His mouth and nose bleed copiously onto the ornate carpet of King Snake’s throne room. Jim viciously hoped that his blood stains never came out and permanently ruined it.

It was a petty thought, but one that amused him as he watched the king yell at some of his people for the failure of his execution.

“My king, I do not know what is wrong with the execution chamber,” said one of the blue scaled people. He was on his knees bowing to the king.

“You don‘t know! Don‘t you run the machine?” shouted King Snake. “Which one of you is the engineer?”

“I am, my liege. I believe that the execution of all those miners stressed the crystals beyond their ability. They have cracked and without replacements, the execution chamber will remain inoperable,” said another scaly person.

Jim winced. He could guess what had happened. The miners that the Klingons had stolen the dilithium from, had been executed for the crime of having being robbed.

Damn it. They didn’t deserve that anymore than the Federation deserved the blame that had fallen upon it. It was one thing to try to punish someone that was supposedly guilty, and quite another to do so to the victims.

Jim was rather beginning to personally hate King Snake.

“Then get more of the crystals,” ordered King Snake.

“The nearest mine has been stripped of all the energy crystals,” said another, who’d been standing by the king’s side. “We could get more but it will take a least a week to mine and transport. That mine has been producing rather an inferior grade of crystals these last few years.”

The king hissed in displeasure. “No one steals from me! I want the Federation Captain dead, now! He‘ll be an example to his people!”

Jim rolled his eyes at the drama. “How many times do I got to tell you? The Federation didn‘t steal the crystals. The Federation would never steal them.”

A guard punched him on the side, and Jim gasped for breath.

“Speak again, Federation Captain, and I will order your death now,” said King Snake. “And I‘ll simply make an example of the next Federation member who dares to step upon my lands.”

Jim glared hotly at the king, and spat a mouthful of blood and saliva at the floor, but he otherwise remained silent. He nearly had to bite his own tongue to keep back all the smartass comments. He didn’t want to push his own luck too hard. Not when he was still counting on it getting him out of this mess alive and hopefully in one piece.

“Take him to the cells,” said the king. He pointed his scepter at a guard. “And make certain that he is guarded at all times! He will not escape his punishment.”

Jim dragged his heels as he was taken to the cells not at all willing to help the guards.

They tossed him into another dark room. The only light in the cell came from high slots cut into the ceiling. He was oddly grateful to find a stuffed mattress on the floor. At least it wasn’t another kill room.

He paced the room, checking over for weaknesses but every inch was solid.

So he sat down on the mattress and eyed the door. He thought up and discarded various plans for escape before he sighed and gave it up.

Even if he got out of the cells, out of King Snake’s palace. He had no idea of the state of the city, and his lack of scales kind of made him stand out.

He had no choice but to sit back and hope that his luck would give him an opportunity to escape.

Jim leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.  
*-*-*-*

Maybe, he should have rethought his plan to trust his lucky power.

That’s the thought that kept circling through Jim’s mind as the guards that he’d gotten way too acquainted with, went and tied him up to a stake.

“See, Federation Captain,” hissed King Snake. “Your death will no longer be delayed.”

Jim stared at him. He said coolly, “The Federation did not steal those dilithium crystals.”

“Lies!” shouted the king. “You speak nothing but lies, Federation Captain.”

Jim sighed and tried to tug at the ropes hoping that they would loosen but they didn't.

A guard began pouring a pungent smelling liquid all over the wood at Jim’s feet.

 _Great, as if being tied to a stake wasn’t bad enough. They bring out the accelerant._

“You will die and your death will be a warning to all other Federation citizens,” declared King Snake. He stood up and waved his scepter, the light of the sun caught in the dilithium crystal tip. “My people! See the death of the thief!”

A guard came up with a torch.

“Kill him,” ordered the king.

“At once, sire!” said guard.

But before he could swing the torch onto the wood, rain began falling down in large drops.

Jim looked up and grinned.

Into a cloudless green sky, a bank of dark storm clouds had appeared.

In seconds everyone and everything was drenched.

Tied upon a pile of such thoroughly wet wood that not even a flame-thrower would now set ablaze, Jim just laughed.  
*-*-*-*

“Three times more I have ordered the Federation Captain‘s execution,” hissed the king. “Three times more you have failed me!”

“My most profound apologies, sire. I still do not understand how it is possible that the trapdoor did not open once he was upon it. It dropped every other time. Even after he was removed from it!” said one of the people that had just tried to kill him.

Jim wasn’t feeling particularly sympathetic towards the guy. He’d been the one that had suggested a hanging, because the endless rain wouldn’t interfere with it.

It hadn’t worked.

“I have had enough! I have ordered his death! If I must carry out the order myself, than I will!” shouted King Snake.

Jim stiffened and tried to pull away from the guards that were holding him. He almost slipped free. The guards had gotten so used to him just hanging limply between them that he managed to take a swing at one and kick the other before another set of guards caught him in a tackle a couple of feet from a window.

He snarled, bit and tried to get free to no avail. It took a lot of punches, and kicks, including a rather painful one to his knee to get Jim to stop trying to move. Mostly because he couldn’t.

“Hold him up,” ordered the king. He hefted an iron spear from the wall.

Jim had wondered, during his contemplation of various escape plans, if those weapons were real or purely decorative.

From the wicked tip he rather doubted they’d been picked only for their aesthetics.

“I‘ve told you time and time again that the Federation didn‘t steal your crystals!” shouted Jim. “And we wouldn’t stand for anyone that did!”

“Liar,” said the king, than ran at Jim with the spear.

Jim was still trying to twist away when Spock materialized right in front of him. And in a movement that made it seem he knew the spear was coming he reached out and snatched it way from the running king, who‘d skidded to a stop just a couple of feet from Jim.

The tip of the spear had been inches from Jim’s chest.

Spock then bent the spear in half like the metal shaft was nothing.

The king reared back in shock.

“The Federation did not stoop to stealing the dilithium crystals from your mines,” said Spock, coolly.

“Told you so,” slurred Jim, the pain was starting to make him feel fuzzy.

Spock gave him a look. Jim just grinned at him.

“More lies,” said the king, softly this time.

Jim was darkly amused that it had taken Spock’s show of strength to make him sound unsure.

With some people, only a show of force caught their attention and respect.

“I had considered that you would not believe my assertions, so I brought evidence,” said Spock. He spoke into his communicator. “Mr. Scott, beam down our guest.”

After the transporter light had faded away, a Klingon was standing before them.

Jim’s eyebrows went up and he shot Spock an inquiring look.

Spock ignored him.

“This is Kanaog,” continued Spock. “He was the one responsible for the theft. We caught him and his crew at the edge of your solar system, returning for more dilithium crystals.” Spock pressed a button on his communicator. “And this is his confession.”

Jim listened and noticed that it sounded more like the Klingon commander had been bragging about the courage and ingenuity of the Klingon Empire than confessing a crime. He couldn’t help but wonder how Spock had managed to pull that off.

King Snake was now glaring at the Klingon. “Capture him.”

His guards released Jim and leapt to obey.

Jim slumped to the ground but was caught by Spock before he hit the ground. Gently, Spock wrapped an arm around his waist and help him up.

“Hey Spock, you have good timing,” said Jim, as he tried to keep his knee from buckling.

“Yes, it does appear to have been fortuitous. Though, I have noticed that I was not fast enough to prevent injury,” said Spock, his voice softer than Jim usually heard. He pressed a gentle finger to Jim’s split lower lip.

It made Jim smile, even as his lip started bleeding again.

That made Spock pull back his hand and reach for the communicator.

“Mr. Scott, beam myself and the captain to the ship at once. Our business on this planet is concluded,” said Spock.

“At once, Commander!”

As the light of the transporter turned everything white, Jim could help but think that once again he was proven to be an incredibly lucky bastard.

End


End file.
